Go With The Ectoplasmic Flow
by Uurrusistabul
Summary: A year after his accident, with ghost activity at its peak and sophomore year hurdling towards him, Danny meets seventeen year old Carson Deuso, who moves to Amity Park with his mother and father: two ghost hunters with an unnatural obsession with the Fenton project and an even weirder background.
1. New Kid on The Block

Mr. and Mrs. Fenton had been jabbering all summer about it; a cornucopia of crooning could be found within the Fenton household as the family busied themselves with preparations. Tomorrow, a week before Danny's sophomore year began, two new "professional" ghost hunters, and long time pen pals to Jack and Maddie, would be moving down the street with their seventeen year old son.

The Deusos had originally been from some lonely town in Oklahoma and they hadn't exactly made a name for themselves like the Fentons had (even if a wide percentage of that fame was infamy) in terms of ghost hunting, but they seemed apt enough by Danny's parent's standards and apparently that was enough for them to pick up all they had, including their senior son, and move to Amity Park. Danny felt himself cringe at the thought of being uprooted from his home, his friends, like that; especially just as he was entering senior year. Ouch.

* * *

When the Deuso family finally arrived at their house, Fentons wandering outside the apartment, you immediately knew something was ... up with this family. If the large truck and ghost paraphernalia dangling out the back and windows wasn't the first thing that caught your attention, the man and woman dropping out of it were.

The woman, Mrs. Jessica Deuso, had her messy greying hair up in a bun, thick glasses framing a rather adorable older face, and looked about forty-seven, or at least in her late forties. Mr. Deuso looked rather stoic, a larger man, with a dark beard and short-cropped grey hair. The thing that struck you as odd, though, was the matching bright green hazmat suits they were sporting proudly. Danny snorted as Jazz elbowed him in the side. It wasn't like their parents didn't dress the same way.

Mr. Deuso's solemn and stoic expression crumbled with his embrace of both Jack and Maddie. Danny thought his mother would collapse on herself, caught in the crossfire of Mr. Deuso, and Jack's combined bear hug. Mrs. Deuso settled for a handshake and light peck on the cheek, smiling at Maddie warmly and apologizing for her husband's over the top behavior. Mrs. Fenton shook her head, nodding towards her own eccentric significant other, who was still attempt to out-hug his long distance second 'best bud'. (Coming only second to Vlad. Ha.) Danny and Jazz exchanged pleasantries with the couple, before wandering apart from their parents' excited chatter in search of the third member of the Deuso family.

"So, Keith, how was the trip down here? No problems, ghosts or otherwise?" Jack slapped Keith on the back fondly, drawing a smile from the otherwise quieter man. "Yeah, smooth sailing. Well, as smooth of sailing as you can get with a teenage boy jammed with all the ghost gear in the back. Speaking of which, we should probably rescue him now, poor kid probably can't get out on his own." Maddie put a hand to her mouth, giggling along with Jessica, who shook her head, a few rebellious hairs making their way out of her bun. "I swear, that boy won't speak up about anything, he'll just wait for you to realize he's in a jam."

"Literally," Keith chuckled, passing Danny and Jazz with a friendly smile before opening his truck's side door. "How you holding up back there, Carson?" Keith asked sarcastically, lifting the bags that had been stacked to the roof of the car. "Been better," a deep voice called back. Keith shook his head, turning to Danny. "Hey, son, would you do me a favor and hold these bags? You can set 'em down, just make sure they get closer to the house somehow."

Danny nodded, being handed the bag, and feeling the air escape his lungs. "Jesus, what's in this bag?" he yelped, knees trembling under the weight as he managed to waddle slowly towards the apartment. Keith whooped, the laugh ending in a wheeze as he lifted three bags at once. "Probably should take it slow with this stuff," he puffed as he made room for Carson to slip out of the truck. "It's mostly research papers. More important stuff belongs in the truck, instead of out, you know."

"I'm just surprised I wasn't tied to the roof," Carson cracked, working a kink out of his shoulder. Keith eyed him wearily and Carson shrugged, putting up his hands in defense. "I'm kidding, Daddy, I'm kidding." Danny dropped the bags just by the stairs, falling on top of them. "I'm not built for manual labor," he puffed, raising his head, tired. Keith was leading his son, apparently Carson, over to him, multiple more duffel bags and backpacks in tow. Danny swore he spotted Carson carefully placing what looked to be a guitar against the stairway.

If Danny didn't know that Keith was Carson's father, he wouldn't think they were related in the most distant of blood. Where Keith was huge, nearly a head over Danny's father and barrel chest to match, Carson was about five foot six with a skater's build. Keith stood straight up and look ready to jump into action at anytime, whereas Carson looked like he had the reaction-speed of a two-toed sloth.

The only relative similarity between the two would be their beards, even if Carson's looked ill kept, and more like a shaggy stubble if anything. However, his military cut made him look somewhat formal, brown hair neatly kept. Dark brown eyes looked indifferent to anything that was going on, if not looking annoyed. The older teen threw down two bags by Danny's feet, acknowledging him with a nod. Danny returned it; male bonding at its finest. Keith huffed as he set down four of the bulging bags. "My bones are going to turn to dust one of these days," he breathed, rubbing his back.

Carson stretched his arms above his head. "You wanna call the moving guys, now?" Carson pressed, eying his father. Keith cracked his back just as Jack made his way over, carrying two bags. "No need, that's what we're here for," he panted, gesturing at the truck, where Maddie and Jessica were lowering down a large piece of ghost hunting equipment. Maddie caught the large piece of machinery before it hit the concrete with a loud burst of air escaping her body. "Help!" she yelped, obviously struggling under the equipment. Jazz had clambered over to the pair, dropping the bag she was carrying, and basically flung herself beside her mother as they set the object on the ground. Mrs. Deuso lowered another, smaller, piece of machinery, looking just slightly ridiculous as she did so. "What's that?" Danny asked as he trotted to receive the chunk of metal.

Mrs. Deuso immediately stopped leaning off the edge of the truck. "It's an ectocommunicator that we've been working on for two years now," she replied, flashing a friendly smile. "I don't think you can hold this thing yourself, Daniel, let Carson help you." Danny shrugged off what he felt was a little bruising to his ego and waited while Mrs. Deuso waved frantically to Carson, the ectocommunicator slipping slightly in her grip. Carson wandered over by Danny, arms held up to catch his parent's machine. The machine came down more suddenly than Danny expected and he slipped from under it. Carson grunted, but slowly fell to his knees, easing the machine to the ground before falling over and gasping for breath.

Mrs. Fenton ran over to the boys, who were both laying on the floor in exhaustion. Jazz stopped wheeling the larger machine to turn and ask if everything was okay. Carson held up a thumbs up. "Golden," he wheezed. "Danny's just a total weenie." Danny whipped his head to Carson, who gave him a sleazy grin. "I'm kidding man, it's cool. You're like, what, twelve? No wonder you lost your footing." Danny felt his face heat. "I'm fifteen," he snapped. Carson managed a weak laugh, still sounding exhausted. "My bad."

Mrs. Deuso rolled her eyes, before extending a hand to Danny. "You shouldn't start talking smack in a new town, Carson, especially to your potential first friend," she chided. Carson rolled his eyes. "Mama," he groaned, pushing himself to a sitting-up position. Mrs. Deuso shook her head, tossing Carson the last bag and effectively knocking the air out of him. "Come on, boys, get a move on, it's getting dark."

Carson fell on his back as his mom walked away and looked up at Danny, a smile on his face. Danny cocked an eyebrow down at him, and the older boy rolled onto his side and sat back up. "So you're going into sophomore year, right?" Carson lifted his hand, asking for help. Danny clasped his hand and hoisted, nearly falling over as he did so; the older guy must have been made of solid rock to be so heavy.

"Yeah," Danny managed, testing the ligaments in his hand to make sure they were still in tact. Carson's eyebrows raised thoughtfully, as though pleasantly surprised. "Well, cool, then, I guess. I'll be going to the same school as you, obviously, so maybe you can make the transition easier, you know? Anything to look out for?" Carson hoisted the bag his mother had thrown over his shoulder, leaning on the other foot to support the weight. Danny blinked once, twice, before responding. "Dash. Lancer. Pretty much the entire football team," he said dumbly.

Carson snorted. "Ha. Sounds like a regular teeny-bopper tv drama. The worshipped sports team and the one wicked teacher against the underdog sorta thing." Danny looked at Carson oddly, and the older boy flinched and laughed. "Ah, sorry, yeah, I watch a lot of TV. It's easier to categorize situations in genres then to face them head on, you know?" Danny took a small step the side, away from Carson. "Not ... really?" Carson noted Danny's response and replied in kind, inching away from both the boy and the conversation. "Yeah, it's probably just me. Anyway, what's this Dash guy, he a dick?" Carson began making his way, leisurely, to his family, who were already invading their new 'home'.  
Danny nodded with earnest, grabbing a bag on his way inside. "He's been harassing me since grade school."

Carson snagged what Danny assumed to be his guitar and a backpack, making a face at Danny's comment. "Wow, what a gross dude." Danny gave Carson yet another weird expression. "Gross?" Carson nodded. "Really gross. Anybody sick enough to constantly harass someone just because they're weaker is gross." Danny couldn't help but agree with that, despite its weird context. "You ever been in contact with a Dash type guy?" Danny inquired as they entered the house, families gathered in the living room and ready to unpack. Apparently the ectocommunicator, and whatever the other thing was, was going to be moved to the Fenton's house. Danny made a mental note to check how those two machines worked later tonight. He could only hope they wouldn't cause problems.

A snort brough Danny back to the conversation, and he turned to see Carson taking the stairs in twos. "I've had the displeasure, yeah," he replied, not turning to look back at Danny. "Bring what you've got upstairs, it's all mine." Danny clambered up the stairwell, stopping at the top and looking around dumbly. "Where did y-" Danny's sentence cut off with a sharp yell when Carson popped just behind the corner, shouting "BOO!" The youngest Fenton nearly fell backwards before he caught the handrail, and Carson caught him. Smiling down at the younger, Carson hoisted Danny to the top of the stairs again and looked apologetic. "Sorry, didn't mean to nearly cause your untimely demise."

The younger teen rolled his eyes. "I'm not made of glass, man. I woulda just hit my head a little harder than I would have liked," Danny dismissed. 'Or I would have just gone ghost and been fine, but whatever,' Danny thought, following Carson. "So which room is yours?" Danny asked, attempting break the tension in the air. Carson shrugged, wandering into a nearby door. He flicked on the light to reveal a small space, walls devoid of color. "I guess I'll just settle for this one. It's not like I've got a lot of stuff or anything."

Relieved to finally put down the bag he'd been carrying, Danny dropped his burden on the floor closest to the window. The room was barren save two outlets, a small closet, and a mirror. "Don't you need a bed?" Danny asked as Carson began unloading his backpack. The bearded teen shook his head. "Naw, I never liked beds, I always just got a bunch of blankets and pillows and slept on the floor," he replied, pulling out several shirts and a few pants. Danny rubbed the back of his neck, looking around the room once more. "What about a dresser?"

"Closet," Carson pointed out, jerking a thumb towards the thin door. "Don't worry about it, Danny, I don't need a lot to live." Carson leaned his guitar against the windowsill, setting his backpack beside it. "You play the guitar?" Danny inquired, unsure of what to do with himself. Did he offer help or was that too forward? He felt kind of useless just standing around. Carson noticed. "Yeah, I've played for three years. Started freshman year in hopes of doing something with my life," he joked, drawing out a comforter that was jammed in the other bag. "Can you help me fold some of this shit? You don't have to touch my underwear or nothing." Danny laughed and Carson smirked.

The two boys began rifling through Carson's possessions. In total the kid owned: a guitar, fifteen shirts, five pairs of pants, ten pairs of underwear, a sock, a comforter (Carson assured Danny that his parents had pillows in another bag), bathroom utilities, a laptop, and a mangled looking notebook that he snatched from the bag and stuffed in the closet as soon as possible. Danny looked curiously at Carson, the older teen shrugging. "Some of us got secrets." Danny snorted; boy did he understand. Confused, Carson cocked and eyebrow and Danny went back to rifling through the clothes.

"Why did you just pick up and leave Oklahoma?" Danny asked later, the two of them leaning against the wall as Carson absently plucked and tuned his guitar. The absent-minded elder stopped messing with his guitar for a moment, staring down at his fingers for a moment. Danny was about to ask if he was okay before Carson started playing again. "Beats me, my folks have always been ready to jump at things." Danny highly doubted that was the only reason, but he didn't pry. Besides, Danny barely knew Carson anyway and this was an awkward enough conversation.

If it bothered Carson, he didn't show it. "Your parents are pretty much their idols, didja know that?" Carson asked, thumbing his guitar thoughtfully. Danny shrugged and laughed once. "Hah, I don't really see my parents as incapable, don't get me wrong, but I never thought they'd be idols. It's actually pretty funny." Carson grinned back at the black-haired teen.  
"Let me guess, a lot of explosions?" Danny nodded and snorted. "A lot of explosions."

* * *

Danny was getting ready for his nightly round when he saw it. It had to be at least one in the morning, everybody should have been asleep. Yet he could clearly see inside the Deuso's window, where Carson was nodding in understanding, his parents barely in Danny's view. The halfa felt a peak of curiosity, and, with a quick glance around for enemies, he turned intangible. Carson was nodding obediently to his parents, looking pretty bored, as he was handed a very old, worn book.

Danny inched closer towards the window before hissing in pain. A zap of something, maybe electricity, smacked him angrily away, as though slapping him on the wrist like a misbehaving child. "What the hell ... " Danny mumbled before looking back at the window. Mr. and Mrs. Deuso were wishing Carson a goodnight, it seemed, before heading upstairs. Carson looked slightly annoyed, book under his left arm. Danny visibly shivered when the boy's dark brown eyes flickered towards him and stayed on him for a good ten seconds. He swore he saw Carson smirk before he jumped up the stairs and disappeared into his room.

More than just a little weirded-out, Danny floated away from the house only to feel a large body from behind. "Have you taken to peeping, Welp?" a deep baritone chuckled. Danny stiffened immediately, flinging himself around only to be face to face with Skulker. The teen groaned internally. 'I was so hoping to go to bed tonight.' The larger ghost swung a fist towards the young halfa, who barely dodged. Sighing, he lunged for the mecha-ghost, resigning all hopes for a peaceful sleep.


	2. First Day

**_Hey there friends, it's James. I'm happy to announce that chapter two is out now and I'm working on chapter three. Uhm, well, I hope that this story progresses in a nice way and that you all get where I'm going with this. uwu_**

* * *

Standing outside of Carson's door, Sam and Tucker in tow, Danny waited patiently as he heard Carson shout out from his window. "I'll be there in a sec just let me-" A series of loud thuds and the trio felt their faces pale. The door handle jiggled and Carson stumbled out, the top of his hair in a mess and face freshly shaven. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, I sorta ... just fell down the stairs," he panted, hiking his backpack, now filled with school supplies, higher on his back.

Sam gave Danny a look, to which the boy responded with a shrug. Tucker, however, seemed more interested in Carson's shirt. "You listen to Madeon?" he asked, looking excitedly at his upperclassman. Carson managed a smile. "Yeah, man, I mean, I only started listening to them because of a mix I heard from a friend, but it was a well made decision. You into Studio Killers?" Tucker gave Carson a confused look before shaking his head. "No."

Carson shrugged. "They're pretty alright. My ex didn't dig 'em because she said the lead singer was too 'obnoxious' but we all have our tastes, right? I mean, if you have a Spotify you can just look in DEV's recommended and there they are. Eventually, I mean." Carson looked behind Tucker and waved pleasantly at Sam, who held up a hand in greeting. "Yo, Danny, you her boyfriend?" Carson asked jokingly as he and Tucker started down the front steps.

As if on queue, the pair shouted in protest, looking at each other awkwardly. Carson snorted and Tucker patted Carson on the back. "They get that a lot." Carson cocked and eyebrow. "No kidding, I think I picked up on that." Sam rolled her eyes and managed a smirk. "I'm Danny and Tucker's friend Sam," she said, extending a hand. Carson took it and shook it, looking amused. "You three are a bunch of mismatched socks at the bottom of the hamper, ain't you?" he chuckled. Tucker looked at Danny, who shrugged. Carson winced and slipped his other arm on his backpack. "Sorry, that was a weird analogy. Didn't mean to offend y'all."

Sam snorted. "Did you just say 'y'all'?" Carson's eyebrows shot up. "Sher did lil' missy now hows about we get on t'wards that thar Jasper High." Danny was motioning frantically behind Sam and Tucker, both of whom were laughing at Carson. Danny 'playfully' yanked the pair by their shirts and began to drag them down the street, motioning for Carson to follow. "By the way, it's Casper High, not Jasper. Casper, like the ghost." Carson guffawed. "No wonder your parents live here," he snorted.

Tucker and Sam managed to escape Danny's grip and began to walk alongside him, Carson walking leisurely behind. Danny turned back, eyebrow cocked. "Our parents. You live here now too, remember." Carson groaned. "Don't remind me. You know how much of a pain in the ass it's gonna be to transfer all those hard-earned credits to this school? I have to do a semester of PE all over again." Carson let his back slouch as he shuffled onwards.

"Why didn't your parents just wait until you were out of highschool to move?" Sam asked, looking back at Carson; the unkept boy threw his hands in the air. "I'm not spooky enough, I guess, all they care about are ghosts and shit. No big deal, though, it's just gym." he replied, exasperated. Carson yawned loudly, looking up at the beginnings of morning and wincing at the peaking sun. "It's a crime to get up this early," he muttered, though none of the three heard him. They were caught up in their own conversation, something about a summer assignment and a Mr. Lancer.

'Shit,' Carson hissed internally; he had totally forgotten to check out any summer assignments, and he had even planned on taking AP British Literature to appease his parents; he'd never admit, even to himself, that he genuinely enjoyed literature. He'd never admit he enjoyed music either. Carson grimaced to himself. No point in bringing any of that angst up now, it would only dampen his mood for the rest of the day. Carson trudged behind Danny and his friends in silence, an occasional nod in agreement when they remembered he was there. Carson wondered absent-mindedly if he'd even make it to fifth period.

* * *

The whole school was crawling with gross people. Literally having taken ten steps onto the campus, Carson got a good look at the youth of Amity Park and it was not something to boast about. A visual slump in Tucker, Sam, and Danny had Carson on edge as they walked past clique among cliques of students. Sure, a majority of the students were probably just simple kids who didn't bother anybody, who sort of blended into the background, but there was just something off-putting about the way certain members of the crowds were acting. They were so ... intimidating. Carson hadn't noticed that he wandered to the left of the three in front of him, ending with him being struck in the back of the head by a rogue football.

Carson swore loudly, hand covering the back of his head. No, it hadn't particularly hurt, but who enjoyed being hit in the back of the head with anything? Carson turned around quickly to the sound of hooting, eyes quickly tracing the source of the laughter to a group of larger kids, all of whom looked like the kind of kids he would want to avoid. "Hey, Fenturd!"

Danny, despite himself, turned to see Carson holding a football in his hands, looking distraught. Not far off to his side was Dash, backed by a bunch of his football cronies, all howling in laughter. "Yo, Fenton, make your dork give us the ball!" he called out. Sam scowled and Tucker groaned, already exasperated. "We've been here for like two minutes," Tucker moaned, jogging after Danny, who was walking quickly towards Carson.

The senior looked as though he were in a horror film, and looked unsure of what to do. Danny grasped his shoulder; no small feat since Carson was a good bit taller than him. "Carson, dude, you okay?" Tucker asked, a scowling Sam in tow. Carson blinked once before shaking his head several times and looking down at the trio. "Oh, my bad, I zoned out for a second," Carson smiled. Danny and the others gave each other concerned looks, but Carson was already turning towards Dash and his crew, who were approaching leisurely. Carson leaned down to whisper in Sam's ear, "Who's big, blond, and bulky?"

Sam ripped her eyes from Dash, venomous glare softening as she looked up at Carson. "His name's Dash. He's a jerk." Dash laughed once. "Woah, Fenton, put a leash on your bi-" Dash was unable to finish his sentence as Carson flung his backpack down and threw the football right into Dash's gut. The jock fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. "You're gonna pay for that, you piece of shit," Dash choked, rising to his feet with the help of his posse. Carson snorted. "I doubt I will, you twat. Why don't you and your shit mouth go lumbering back to your circle jerk? That is, if you don't want to fight me here and now." Carson flexed his arms in an attempt to intimidate Dash, glaring at him with dark brown eyes.

When slouching, sure, Carson was about a head taller than Danny; oh but when he stood up, when he tried to look threatening, he did. Carson was almost a head taller than Dash when he wanted to be and his dad's genetics weren't entirely lost on him; but Dash didn't look too bothered, and was ready to throw a punch when the warning bell rang. Carson flashed a smirk, and a middle finger, before reaching for his book bag. "How convenient on your part," he laughed, before ushering Sam, Tucker, and Danny along with him.

When they managed to pass through Casper's front doors and round the corner, Carson let out a heavy sigh of relief and put his paling face in his hands. "Urgh, I thought I was gonna throw up," he groaned into his palms. "Dude that was awesome!" Tucker cheered, Sam looking equally impressed in her own way. Danny was busying himself with check the hallway for any football cronies and laughing. "Dash would have pummeled you if he weren't so scared!" he cheered, offering Carson a high-five.

Carson didn't look very pleased with himself. "Ugh, no, you guys don't get it. I can't go getting into trouble, the school's gonna look at my transcript and send my ass to alternative school." The trio shut stopped laughing instantly as a dark shadow loomed over Carson, and the boy flinched, feeling as though an ominous presence were within range. Oh, how right he was. "I trust that you are showing this new delinquent how to uphold a respectable presence at my school, Mr. Fenten," a voice snapped. Carson turned on heel, gripping his backpack straps tightly in his fists. He was eye level with a very angry, and bald, middle-aged man and as soon as their eyes met, Carson hunched, trying to look humble.

Putting on a shit eating grin, Carson extended a hand. "Mr. Lancer, I presume?" Mr. Lancer did not receive the handshake and Carson put down his dismissed attempt at companionship, only slightly dismayed. "Daniel warned, erm, told me about you," Carson chuckled. Lancer looked less amused. "Did he now?" he sneered, glaring at Danny, who looked uneasy. "Ah, yes sir, and he only had praise for you," Carson continued, drawing Lancer back to him rather than Danny. "In fact, I've decided on taking advanced British literature with you this year, the only problem being my lack of information on summer work."

Lancer cocked and eyebrow, eying Carson suspiciously. Given the distraction, Carson's smaller companions managed to escape emotionally unscathed, Sam whispering their gratitude as they slipped away. Lancer stiffened his posture, crossing his arms. "It was an essay on Charles Dickens's David Copperfield," he said importantly. "I will allow you an extra week to read and compose a decent essay."

Carson screamed internally, struggling to keep a smile on his face. Well, though he'd a collection of books and was sure that he'd read David Copperfield once upon a time, he'd definitely need more than a week to refresh himself and write an entire essay. If he managed to survive to the end of the school year, Carson would be sure to key Lancer's car. "Yes sir, thank you. May I ask what the essay theme is?" Please be opinionated. Please be opinionated. Please, oh mighty whatever, please let it be opinionated. "A conceptual analysis on why you believe Littimer is an irredeemable character as opposed to Little Emily, and how and why Charles Dicken's uses certain characters to portray the balance between good and evil."

'In other words, speculate this and ... that and just go ahead and sparknote it,' Carson hummed inside of his mind. Feeling his chest unclench with relief, Carson nodded. "Thank you sir. One last thing; would you be so kind as to point me to the music room? It's my first period and Daniel and his friends have wandered off." Mr. Lancer finally noticed the lack of Fenten behind Carson and spluttered, Carson cocking and eyebrow. "Sir?" he drawled out sarcastically.

Lancer's eye twitched slightly and Carson bit back a cackle. "First door on the left, around the corner," he snarled before skulking away to find some other poor child to intimidate. Carson stuck out his tongue behind the man's back before trotting to the music room, looking content.


	3. Lazy Kids and Basements

_**Well, I swear, most of this is gonna be more of a funny/dramatic story but there's moderate ghost gore and spooky themes. My b about that I guess. Fair warning, though. I don't want to give anybody a panic attack. ;w;**_

* * *

Carson sat, leaning against Danny's wall, typing wickedly on his computer; he and Tucker had ensued in playing Doomed 2. Tucker had insisted on its superior graphic and excellent user interface far surpassed its predecessor; Carson wasn't too interested in the game and more so on appeasing the techno-freak. Carson chewed his inner cheek as several other players gathered nearby and began to brawl it out over some stupid game cheat. It's not like he hated video games, it's just that this game got really boring really fast.

Sliding down against the wall, Carson let out a long raspberry, ending with a sigh. Danny, who was for an upcoming test on Monday, looked up with an eyebrow cocked. "What's with you?" he asked, looking at Carson questioningly. Carson shrugged, unsure. "I'm gonna try and join a band," he said, closing his laptop and rolling over on his stomach. "Why not start one yourself, you hate social situations, aren't bands sorta close-knit?" Same mused, slipping off one of her headphones and spinning Danny's computer chair.

Carson groaned and shrugged again. "I don't wanna start my own, too much work. I'd rather just hop in on something that's going already." Sam shrugged, looking back down at her Ipod. "Whatever floats your boat. I know some guys who are in bands, maybe they're looking for players." Danny snorted. "Get ready to play Simple Plan covers for the rest of your life," Danny joked, earning a firm pillow to the face by way of Sam, who scowled. "You know that I haven't listened to Simple Plan in years."

Snickering along with Danny, Carson shook his head. "We don't talk about middle school," he chuckled before a click of the door caught their attention. "Hey Danny, have you seen-" Jazz caught site of Carson laying on the floor and her sentence just sort of faded off. "Don't you have better things to do than hang out with fifteen year olds?" she said bitterly, crossing her arms. Carson stuck out a tongue. After that unfortunate incident involving the two of them and a large bowl of guacamole at Jasper High's cultural fair, Jazz and Carson were butting heads more often than not. Well, Jazz was pissed, Carson was more so inept at handling her rage.

Despite himself, Carson cracked a smirk and drawled out, "You suggesting I keep you company, Jasmine?" Jazz sneered in disdain before turning away from the small town boy and facing Danny. "Danny, have you seen Mom anywhere? I need her to fill me out a check for this month's dual enrollment tuition." Carson waggled his eyebrows, made a crack about being impressed, only to receive an elbow to the ribs by Tucker and a scowl from Jazz. Carson cringed, hating the sound of his voice. 'Smooth, Carson, you're a real cool cat.'

He'd have to learn to contain those sassy comments eventually; if he ever wanted to have a stable relationship, that is.

Well obviously he wasn't too interested in building one with Jazz because as soon as Danny gave her the 'I dunno' she'd been dreading, Jazz glared at Carson on her way out of the room. Sam eyed Carson, who tried hiding his stress. "Why are you such a jerk around her? I get that she's defensive, but you act like a total ass around her."

Carson tried to shrug off Sam's question, but something about it stuck to him. Never mind, he'd just address it later.

Danny blew his bangs out of his face. "I'm more worried about the flirting, man, what's with that?" Carson felt his face heat and he rolled away from the conversation, facing the wall. "It's not flirting, it's sass," he moaned, bumping his head into the wall. "Emphasis on ass," Sam added, beginning to spin faster. "Ha!" Tucker laughed, closing his laptop. "Anyway, what time is it? I gotta get home by eight so I can print off Carson's essay."

Danny pushed off his math homework and rolled to his side, turning his alarmclock. "It's only five, you've got time." Carson rolled over again, facing his friends. "A week of pure agony. It's not like I completely hate David Copperfield, but searching for literary terms in under a week for a starting grade is hell on Earth," Carson whined, sitting up and leaning against the wall again. "I wasted my whole weekend."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "You spent a majority of your weekend with us," she pointed out. Carson sat up abruptly. "No, no, no; I mean, yeah, I did, but, like, I spent most of the time thinking or doin' the assignment, ya know?" Carson scrambled for words, shaking his hands. Sam rolled her eyes, smiling. "It's fine; you need to calm down," she laughed, turning off her music. Carson sighed, running his hands through his short hair. "Urgh, tell me about it."

* * *

As everyone filed out of his house, Danny couldn't help but watch Carson intently as he made his way down the street. It had been a week since he'd fought Skulker and since then, after his escape, he hadn't seen or heard from him. Call him paranoid, but Danny had the nagging feeling that the hunter's disappearance wasn't voluntary. Even after four nights of basically stalking the Deuso household, nothing else strange had happened. Sure, the persistent zapping was still in effect every time he approached their home, but that was expected. They were ghost hunters after all, right?

* * *

The ghost was wailing in pain, screaming so loudly that Mrs. Deuso feared he'd wake her son. A swift swing of her anti-ghost whip and he was beyond screams, silent agony filling the room. They'd been prying, poking, and picking the ghost apart for about a week, collecting samples of ectoplasmic goo that seemed to act as blood. Mrs. Deuso was pleased to know that ghost anatomy was reminiscent of human anatomy, which made sense; ghosts were the collective energy of the dead.

"Le ... let me ... RELEASE ME-!" The ghost's head slammed backwards, a blood curdling scream following. Mrs. Deuso had reached her hand into the specimen, rooting around eagerly, cautious of the stabilizer that kept the ghost tangible. "Shut up, I'm trying to find your spinal column so I can collect sufficient marrow," she scolded, holding fast to the vertebrae her fingers grazed. In response, the ghoul shrieked and began convulsing, just as Mrs. Deuso succeeded in removing the bone.

The piece of radioactive bone glowed an angry green, paired nicely with the green of its 'blood'. The tired looking woman thumbed the removed vertebrae, clucking in disappointment at the now unconscious, or permanently deceased, ghost. Mrs. Deuso traced a hand down the side of the green monster, gloved fingers running across the newly created wounds. Mrs. Deuso mused the idea of a more permanent death for ghosts. Ghosts were energy, correct? That was the theory. You certainly couldn't destroy energy, but if you were to disperse it and use it all ...

Mrs. Deuso shrugged, gingerly placing the vertebrae on a nearby operation table. She'd managed to sneak all her more ... controversial lab supplies in the dead of night, along with the other things she'd need. If she succeeded, she'd be world renowned, an innovator for the future. The front door slammed shut and Mrs. Deuso sighed, looking at a nearby clock. How time flies when you're having fun. Grabbing the Fenton thermos Jack and Maddie has been so kind to gift them with, Mrs. Deuso removed the ghost stabilizer and sucked the unresponsive test subject inside, capping it with a smile.

* * *

Skulker had been waiting, watching, learning. The prey he'd been hunting was gone, this much was obvious, but where he had disappeared to was a mystery. The ghost child had been lurking around the same apartment for weeks now and if the ghost hunter didn't know any better, he recognized that scent. It was the scent of fresh ectoplasm. Yet, despite his best attempts, he couldn't get close. Not even underground, where he was usually sure to get in, was breachable, it was impenetrable. Whatever was inside was staying inside and whatever was outside was staying outside. Growling lowly, Skulker ground his teeth, jaw tight. Nobody took his prey; nobody.

Skulker felt his jaw unclench, however, at the sight of a young man making his way towards the door. His chance.


	4. SpaghettiOs and Cigarettes

**_Ooh la la, who is Dyani? Well, actually, a more relevant question would be why the fuck is Carson trying to strike up casual banter with a ghost? It is a mystery. Anyway, more spoooooooky stuff to come and more drama and maybe we'll get to find out what the deal is with Carson's family. Please leave a review if you can. uwu 333_**

* * *

Carson trudged through his house, shoulders slack. Only a week had passed since he'd arrived and he already was exhausted beyond belief. Usually he coveted the weekend for sleep, but with that god forsaken essay and his surprising desire to maintain a relationship with Danny, Sam, and Tucker he'd barely had time to relax. "Momma, I'm home! Am I makin' dinner tonight?" he hollered, shuffling into the kitchen.

Mrs. Deuso bobbed upstairs, scooping her hair into a neater bun. "Your dad's not gonna be home until much later, he may even be staying the night at the Fenton's so it's catcher's catch can tonight," she sighed, opening a nearby cabinet. Carson groaned, face on the table. "I didn't even see him over there, he must be real busy doing ... " Carson sat up. "What are they doing again?" Mrs. Deuso threw down a few cans of SpaghettiOs and several packets of poptarts on the table and shrugged. "I don't think they're quite finished installing the ectocommunicator and patching it with the systems."

Carson pried open a packet of frosted blueberry poptarts and stuffed one into his mouth. "Sho wha haff you been doin'?" he asked, mouth full of the sweet. Mrs. Deuso rolled her eyes, smacking Carson lightly on the back of the head. "Don't talk with your mouth open, that's gross," she scolded. Carson rolled his eyes, swallowing hard. "You didn't answer my question."

The tired woman shrugged, looking for something to eat in the freezer. "I've been fiddling with some diagrams and setting up in the basement," she lied, pulling out an icy box. "You up for hot pockets?" she inquired, looking at her son. Carson snorted in response, "When am I not?"

* * *

A fist flew towards Danny at breakneck speed and he barely dodged, swearing as a swift kick followed. "Tell me, ghost child, is that home as intriguing to you as it is to me?" Skulker rumbled, grabbing Danny by both of his wrists and pressing down midair. The halfa scowled, building up some sort of counterattack. "That depends, Skulker," Danny spat in response, blasting the mech in the chest. Skulker snarled, face twisted as he held his abdomen. "I'm interested in their safety, while you are probably interested in adding a human pelt to your collection," Danny sneered, before attacking once again.

Skulker barked a laugh and dodged, shooting a net towards the young halfa. "I've got six," he laughed, making Danny's stomach reel as his feet were caught in the trap. "You're disgusting, you know that?" Danny growled, flying away rapidly in hopes to buy time. The net was tangled violently in his feet and hindered him from going intangible. Danny could hear Skulker's low chuckle. "That's a matter of opinion, boy."

Before he could stop him, Skulker blasted off, leaving Danny to work out the trap he was in. "H-hey where are y-!" Danny was cut off as the netting began to snap and he flipped over himself in midair. Loosening the hinderance, Danny shot in the direction Skulker had flown, jaw locked.  
Skulker smirked up at the halfa, who flew over him without a second thought. The decoy he'd managed to setup (thank you Technus, you creepy bastard) was working perfectly. Just in time too; in the corner of his eye, Skulker could see the young man leaving his house with what looked to be a garbage bag in tow.

* * *

Carson bobbed his head, headphones blaring, as he threw the trash bag over his back and into the dumpster. The young man leant against the wall of his apartment, sneaking a glance around the corner. Mrs. Deuso had gone back downstairs to 'organize more papers' or some nonsense and Carson took the time to take a breather, maybe even smoke.

Fingers found the end of a cigarette and slid it out of his pocket, and between his lips. Several thumb flicks and angry swears later and Carson inhaled. Back in Oklahoma, he and Dyani used to sneak out at night and steal from her dad's liquor cabinet and snatch a few smokes from her older brother. Carson flicked the cigarette like Dyani showed him, and almost ended up dropping the damn thing. He'd never been one for class.

Eyes flickered to something in the distance, Carson tensed and turned down his music. "What?" he tested, scared. He'd always been the paranoid type; when he was younger he would be walking down the creek and would talk to nothing just in case there was something there. Who would have thought something would reply?

"What do you mean, what?" Skulker demanded, making Carson swear loudly and jump. The ghostly figure leant on the opposite wall of Carson, giving the teen a deadly smile. Carson's eyes widened and he took a hesitant step back. "H-holy shit they're not crazy," Carson said dumbly as he began to inch away. Skulker went to grab the boy by his forearm, but was caught off-guard by the electric shock that ran up his arm and through his circuits.

Instead of running, like any sane person would when confronted with a ghost, Caron stopped and watched the mecha-ghost twitch and swear as his systems glitched. The somewhat clueless teen looked down at his arm, which seemed to look pretty normal.

Wait a minute. Naw, still fine.

Still, Carson didn't get why the ghost was freaking out on him. "Listen, uh, you better not try any spooky shit or whatever because I can, uh, assure you ... You know what, no, fuck this, I don't have anything cool to say I'm going inside."

Carson began padding towards his house, heart pounding in fear, but the ghost behind him followed up to a point. The young man turned, half way up the steps, and cocked and eyebrow at the spectre. "Dude my parents have this place locked way down tight, you ain't getting inside, so why don't you haunt like an abandoned house or whatever you ghosts do. Is that a stereotype? I feel like I'm being racist. Ghoscist?"

"Will you shut up for five minutes?" Skulker snapped, panting as he held his chest. Carson made a distasteful face. "Woah there Casper the Cranky Ghost, don't get your metal panties in a twist," Carson scolded, hand absently reaching for the door not far behind him. Skulker glared at the boy, anger filling his eyes. "You have got to be the most annoying brat I've had to put up with all night," he growled. Carson's eyebrows furrowed, hand finally reaching the door to his apartment. "Wait, don't go!" Skulker commanded, but Carson had the door cracked slightly, hiding behind the wooden shield. "Dude, I already told you, my parents have this place locked down, you can't haunt it. Go away."

"I'm not here to haunt you, I'm here to get back my prey!" Skulker snapped, jumping just before he passed the anti-ghost barrier. Carson looked unsure, eyes narrow behind the door. "What, like, a ghost deer?" Skulker groaned, fists clenched. "NO! I don't have time for this, kid, just hand over my-" A blast from behind him made Skulker yelp like an idiot and scramble to escape. Danny had returned, at least ten times angrier after learning he'd been deceived, and was barreling at Skulker.

The ghost-mech high tailed it out of sight, zooming off to God knows where. (Though if God did know, it would be the mayor's house to pay a visit to Vlad.) Danny swore, too exhausted from his wild goose chase to start up another one. The teen halfa's eye flickered to the door, where Carson had cracked it open slightly wider, eyes narrow. Brown eyes met green and the latter widening in panic. "Wait a minute, do-?"

Before Carson could finish his thought, Danny took off like a rocket, leaving the older teen tired, confused, and a bit hungry. "Weird town. Weird."


	5. Hard Knocks

**_Sorry for being such a lazy fuck and not updating sooner. owo; Anyway, there are some plot bunnies in this chapter, so get ready for that. Lots fast paced shit going down. Or at least I hope it's fast paced. I try. Please review I'd love to hear what you have to say._**

* * *

Danny had been casting Carson sideways glances the entire way to school. Sam and Tucker were more relaxed, despite their knowledge of the situation, but the silence among them was unnerving. Yet Carson seemed unaffected by the silence, in fact he looked like he was staring off at something miles away. Tucker elbowed Danny in the side, nodding his head towards Carson. 'Say something,' he mouthed. Danny's eyes widened and his brow furrowed, shoulders hunching. 'Like what?' he asked silently.

Sam and Tucker shrugged. 'Whatever,' Sam mouthed. "Hey Danny," Caron said, breaking the silence and making the three underclassmen flinch. "Y-yeah?" Danny asked, unable to look Carson in the eye and instead settling for watching the ground pass under his feet. "So, like, every day at lunch I end up sitting outside; do you know anybody in third lunch who's let me crash their table?"

Danny felt his shoulders sag in relief as a collective sigh ran through him. "U-uh, I don't exactly talk to too many people. I think the kid I had to pair up with in science last year is in there; he's nice enough I guess," Danny stammered, trying to remember last year. Carson nodded, turning to face Danny as he walked. "So what's he look like? What's his name and shit, I can't read minds, you know?" Danny forced a laugh. "Uh ... Well, he's pretty tall and he's got like tannish skin?" Danny rambled on about Carson's potential lunch mate the entire way to school, and past the doors, desperately trying to keep the conversation off of last night.

Though, on reflection, it seemed like Carson's mind was far from it. Danny couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth curl; it was almost kinda funny how Carson's brain worked. He seemed to always forget things that were important. One track mind. Danny waved Carson off as they split in two directions at the sound of the bell.

* * *

Carson thumbed his pen thoughtfully as the music theory teacher chattered about triad inversion. Usually, Carson would make some attempt to pay attention, but he had too many questions rattling in his mind. Obviously he hadn't forgotten about last night, who'd forget an encounter with a real life actual ghost, let alone two? Carson chewed the inside of his cheek nervously. He wasn't going to lie, the knowledge that his parents hadn't been wasting their time all these years and that their theories, all of them, could be right made Carson worry. The idea of your entire world view crashing all around you is scary, there was no doubt about it, but maybe this was for the best. Ignorance may be bliss but knowledge is exciting. Right? Carson felt his eyes flicker, beyond his control repeatedly to the window. Exciting, sure, but more like scary, especially with ghosts involved.

What was up with hot head, anyway? Caron tried not to snort at his somewhat clever nickname for the trespassing ghost. A wave of embarrassment washed over him when he remembered how ridiculously inept he'd acted and he ran his hands through his hair, nervously glancing out the second story window for his newly known stalker. Nothing.

Wait no, hang on!

Nah, still nothing. Carson's hands began to jitter. Maybe now? Now. No, now? Fuck, where was this guy and what did he want? Were his parents even competent enough to stay safe in the house with that creep skulking around?

"Mr. Deuso?" Carson jolted in his seat. "Y-yes sir?" he stammered, eyes flickering to half way interested classmates. "Are you alright, son, you look sick," Mr. Davis said, expression worried. A few heads turned to stare at Carson, making the teen more uncomfortable. "I'm just ah, yeah, I'm feeling a little sick. Can I go to the bathroom?" Carson asked, to which Mr. Davis responded to with a curt nod to the door. Grabbing his things in a hurry, Carson shakily hurried to the bathroom, jaw clenched as he felt his legs quiver.

"Oh god," he mumbled, stumbling into the bathroom, blessed be the god that allowed its desolation, and flung himself into the handicap stall. Carson slammed his bag to the floor, not caring if his laptop was damaged, and leant against the stall wall, its cooling surface sweet against his overheating skin. Carson licked his dry lips, closing his eyes, and tried to breathe. It was hard to, though, with the feeling of imminent danger creeping down his spine. Carson slid down the wall, resting his head on his knees.

'They're fine, he can't get in. They're fine, Danny's parents are right down the street. Get a grip, man, get a grip,' Carson tried, in vain, to convince himself that his parents would be safe, but the nagging sensation that pulled at his chest told him otherwise. God, he was burning up, too.

Wait, no, hang on. Carson lifted his head. He wasn't getting hotter, it was getting colder.

'That's stupid,' Carson thought, eyes shifting around. He leaned forward, head peering under the stalls, wondering if anybody was there. A pair of shoes, black boots, stood in the doorway. They looked hesitant, the person didn't enter. Carson waited with bated breath as the pair of shoes remained in place. Heart pounding loud in his ears, Carson felt the remaining moisture in his mouth leave as the pair of feet began to move, confidently, towards his stall.

Fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white, Carson watched in panic as the feet stopped just short of his stall. He heard a soft grunt and was greeted with a familiar flamed face under the stall door. "Hey kid I need to tal-"

Carson let out a wheeze, flinging himself to the back of the stall, eyes shaking in their sockets, wildly looking for an escape. Skulker phased through the bathroom stall, looking, to be frank, weirded out. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded, making Carson grab for his book bag and fling it out in front of him. It phased, uselessly, through the ghost. "Nice try, kid, now listen up ... Are you even paying attention?" Carson had managed to rise to shaky knees and trying his hardest not to fall into a pathetic puddle again. "My parents are gho-gho-gho-"

Carson began heaving as his chest tightened unbelievably tight. Skulker gave him a look of disgust. "Calm the hell down." Carson threw his head back and whined, eyes watering. "Ghost hunters!" he yelped, jamming a hand into his bag and pulling out the book his parents had given him. Skulker rolled his eyes, looking at the pathetic child as he flipped haphazardly through the pages of what looked to be a 'magic testament'. "If you think some magic spells are going to keep me at bay, you have another thing coming, pissant."

"Shut up!" Carson yelped, slamming his eyes shut. Skulker rolled his eyes. "C'mon kid, you've gotta be-" Skulker was abruptly cut off as a searing hot pain shot through his body, sending him leaping through the bathroom stall door. "Ow, son of a bitch!" he swore, the white-hot pain dying down as he moved away from the boy in the stall. "How?" he snarled, glaring towards the stall.

Carson slammed the door open, legs visibly shaking, but eyes fierce. "My mom c-comes from a family of exorcists, so I know some stuff!" he yelled, stumbling briefly. "S-so if you wanna mess with me, you can, uh, forget it!" Carson shut his eyes again, concentrating hard. Skulker took another lunge away as the pain ran up his legs, attempting to consume him. "Stop," he ordered, flying to the ceiling, where it seemed safe from the invisible flames. "Can you not see that I'm trying to talk to you, you brat?"

"I don't want to talk!" he snapped, fingers welded to the book. "I want you to stop trying to attack my parent or haunt my house or whatever!" Carson hollered. Skulker sneered. "Well then you can calm down, child, because I am not trying to do any of those things," the ghost spat in disdain. Carson bore his teeth in attempt to seem threatening. "I don't believe that shit for a second, sir!"

Skulker growled, "Do not underestimate me, you pissant, if I wanted you or your family dead they'd be in my trophy room by now."  
Carson snarled ferally, the image leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "So what do you want?" he demanded, eyes narrowing, but his guard still up. Skulker chuckled. "A lot of things, the ghost child mostly, but right now I'm after the prize that your parents have stolen from me, mid-hunt." Carson's brow furrowed deeper, eyes flickering to his book. "My parents just got here, what makes you think they took it?"

Skulker snarled, falling to the floor on heavy feet, making Carson jump. "Do I look a fool to you, boy?" he spat, taking a step forward before Carson raised the book. A silent threat. "I can smell spilled ectoplasm. I can hear him screaming. Don't tell me you don't hear it."

Carson spluttered, "What do you mean screaming, I don't hear nothin' and I live in that house!" Skulker snarled. "Then I suppose it's not on your frequency, pissant." Carson glowered at Skulker, who returned his icy glare. "You really are being kept in the dark," Skulker chuckled, a nasty grin spreading across his face. "Go home tonight, find your way downstairs. You'll find it."

"Find wha-?" Carson didn't finish his sentence as a blur of black and white flew through the boy's room wall, taking Skulker with it. Unable to turn intangible in time, Skulker was flung through three walls of concrete and into the empty classroom beside the girl's room. Carson yelled in shock, grabbing his backpack and flinging it over his shoulder, book held fast in his free hand. A handful of voice could be heard out in the hall, no doubt every classroom within fifty feet had heard the crash, and Carson hurriedly passed through the boy's room entrance, managing only to catch two or three people's attention through the commotion.

Hurriedly, Carson took to the nearby stairwell, nearly falling twice, before landing messily on his feet and scrambling towards the school's back entrance. Dash and Kwan were just coming in from a recent period skipping, Nasty Burger cups in hand, when Carson barreled past them, looking haggard. Dash's diet coke flew from his hand and on to his shoes and with a near roar of rage, he went to grab Carson by the backpack, Kwan's fist ready to strike.

Unfortunately for them, Carson was already on edge and, before thinking, swung a fist into Dash's jaw, sending the jock falling into Kwan. Taking advantage of the fumble, Carson scrambled away from the pair, barely dodging a wild Nasty Burger cup from hitting him in the back of the head. "Where the fuck do you think you're doing?" Dash called, starting after the older boy. Carson growled ferally, turning on heel. "How about you back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up, because I am not in the goddamn mood!" he screamed, voice cracking with anger. Dash stopped just short of Carson, who finally regained his composure, though his hands still shook.

The taller man glowered down at Dash and even though it was only two inches above him, he towered over him with sheer rage. The jock took a step back, an expression stuck between anger and fear on his face. Carson, book still tightly gripped in his hand, jerked forward, threateningly, before bolting away towards his house.

It looks like he wasn't finding a lunch mate anytime soon.


End file.
